


Heartless

by cydonic



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-05-31
Packaged: 2017-11-06 09:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/417219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cydonic/pseuds/cydonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony doesn't have a heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartless

No matter what Pepper says, Tony doesn't believe he has a heart.

There's always been this odd ache there for as long as he can remember. It's a hollow feeling, like someone plunged their hands into his chest and scraped out that very important emotional organ.

Tony knows his heart is _really_  there because if it wasn't he'd be  _a)_  dead and  _b)_ the arc reactor would be useless. Physically it is there, but emotionally he's not so sure.

He can't remember if he cried when his parents died. Perhaps for his mother, perhaps just a little, into the bottle he'd hit too early - into the one he'd inherited from his father. And maybe he'd cried for his father, tears of joy, because all he'd ever been was  _disappointed in you, Tony_  and there wasn't a single thing worse than disappointment. But his heart hadn't ached. It hadn't broken or shattered, hadn't even split off into smaller fragments or shaken itself apart. It just wasn't there.

They died and life went on.

Obadiah died and life went on. Tony did cry then. But that wasn't sign of a heart. There was all this  _emotion_ that needed an outlet of some kind and if Tony didn't cry he was trying to punch the expensive exterior of one of his luxury cars and breaking his fingers.

That did actually happen.

Pepper had come downstairs, hiding well any grief she felt over the loss, not with papers but with coffee. Two mugs. And Tony had been there, huddled up against his Vantage Roadster, hand swollen and useless by his side.  _What did you do?_ echoed in his mind as if there were a delay between audio and visual, because Pepper was already gingerly tipping his hand in hers: back and forth and it  _hurt_  but Tony couldn't bring himself to care. He wriggled his fingers, tried to grasp hers, just because the pain that bought more tears to his eyes stirred this burn in his chest and that was as close to a heart as he thought he'd ever get as Pepper cradled him on the floor of his workshop.

Out of all the organs Tony hated, it was the heart. It was so weak because it had so much resting on its shoulders, like Atlas before he shrugs and it stops and that's the end. One would say that Tony hates his liver, but he never sets out to hurt himself to suffer. He sets out to hurt himself because if he doesn't have a heart at least he has pain.

Pain comes easily to him. Pain comes in drinking too much and falling over, and people  _assume_  he's a clumsy drunk despite the fact that he retains enough motor function to construct advanced robotics when intoxicated and enough mental capacity to argue string theory until dawn even though quantum mechanics aren't his field of choice. The damage he sustains in his suit is just what's needed in the line of duty, and if he bears the brunt of artillery fire when there is a wall he could hide behind or the open sky he could fly into, well… that's just the superhero business. Sometimes when he's driving he speeds up, double, triple, the speed limit, and lets go of the wheel. He takes it back again because he isn't sure that's the pain he could wake up from but he wants to try anyway because he's  _Tony Stark_  and if anyone can do it it's him.

"Tony, come on." There's something in her voice he's never heard before. Pepper is crying - he's seen her cry, so that's not exactly new, but the strain and sob in her voice shatters him. "I can't do this. Not any more."

Slowly he registers feeling: cool cement against his cheek, warm liquid caressing the curve of his jaw, metal in his mouth. He musters up the strength to spit the blood out and then opens his eyes. In front of him, Pepper is a shaking mess. "You're killing yourself… and I just can't do it." She can't know that he's awake because Pepper is  _never_  so open with anything.

Tony coughs and spits again, and Pepper's glassy eyes are on him. "Tony. That's it. No more." She can't even muster up her usual Pepper Potts voice. She's a hollow creature Tony doesn't know, with Pepper's hair and Pepper's clothes but none of  _her_.

None of the woman that he knew: strong, reliable, punctual. "I can't leave you to kill yourself, and I know I can't change your mind." Stunning and funny and beautiful. "There's nothing I can do. But this is it."

Tony doesn't know what she's saying, she's talking in circles and his head is ringing. He drags himself so that he's sitting up, swaying in place. Her eyes are red and bought down by dark bags. "Pepper." Tony says, and he is surprised.

He is surprised that his voice makes the sound so clear, that his arms work enough to drag Pepper into a tight hug, that his body has enough fluid to produce these endless tears against his will and self-control.

He is surprised that she leans into him, clings to him, begs him between sobs to just  _stop_ ,to just  _live_ , because there is something there for him: she is there for him. "I love you, Tony." She says into his chest, plainly, as if she's accepted this a long, long time ago, and he should know that by now.

Tony is surprised that he feels that space in his chest constrict with such a tight pain it leaves him breathless. He is surprised because Pepper has just given him his heart back and he didn't realise just how much he  _needed_  it until she needed him.


End file.
